by Jo Davis
“Are you kidding? I’m about to fossilize here. When do you need me?”
“Now.” After she finished explaining what was going on, he reacted pretty much the same as she had.
“Oh, Christ. I’ll be there soon. Don’t let them start that tape without me.”
“I won’t. I’ve got to transfer it to digital, anyway, so there’s plenty of time.”
“Okay. ’Bye, sweetheart.”
Michael and his three top agents arrived minutes later, her lover handing over the tape. His eyes were anxious, haunted. She couldn’t work with him and the others hovering, looking like accident victims, and she waved a hand at the group.
“Wait here if you want. I’m going to take this to my office, and I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Without waiting for their protests, she disappeared into her office, praying Bastian was there by the time she was ready. No sense in prolonging this more than necessary.
At her desk, she stuck the tape into an old VCR and prepared to work her computer magic. Transferring the film wasn’t really difficult, though. No, that part came when she had to enhance the images of Maggie Ross’s murder in cold blood.
A hit. Not a mugging. Just as they’d been told by the prisoner below.
This was going to kill Michael. Grabbing a tissue from the box on her desk, she dabbed her eyes. She had to be composed before she went out there again. Not only for Michael, but for all three of them. Michael’s seeing this would either tear them all apart or bring them closer than ever. A turning point.
With the video saved to her computer, there was nothing left to do but bring them in. Standing, she went to get them. To her relief, Bastian had arrived and was sitting, holding his crutches, next to Michael. Michael’s expression was closed off, and everyone else’s anxious.
“I was just telling Bastian how good he’s getting around, hardly needing those anymore,” Blaze remarked, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m doing a ton better, ready to come back when the doc clears me. I’m hardly sore at all.”
Bless his heart, he was trying, too. Unfortunately, their efforts fell on deaf ears. Michael stood and gestured toward the office.
“Are we ready?”
“Yes, but… this footage is very rough. Graphic. I wanted you to know before I play it.”
“I figured it would be.” Holding her gaze, he softened his tone. “But thank you.”
They trailed into her office like a funeral procession and crowded around the monitor. Willis produced a chair for Bastian, which he gratefully accepted. She sat down and laid her hand on the mouse, cursor hovering over the PLAY button. The one small thanks she could give was that there was no sound, only video.
The film began with Maggie walking to her car about thirty yards from the camera, a purse over one shoulder, and carrying a sack of Chinese takeout. Since the camera was positioned under the eave of the gas station’s roof, the angle was good, giving a bird’s-eye view, but not so high that faces and other details couldn’t be seen.
As the woman reached her car and pointed the little black box on her key ring to unlock it, two men approached from the right of the screen. One was a big man, holding an equally big knife.
“Holy fucking God,” Bastian breathed, face pale. “Is that…”
No one moved or responded to his unspoken question. On the screen, Maggie turned briefly to see the men and dropped the sack of food, then scrambled for the door handle. She managed to jerk it open, but the shorter of the two men slammed it closed and spun her around, her back against the side of the car.
“We never knew there were two of them,” Michael said, voice low. Strained. “Muggers don’t work in pairs, or stop to taunt their victims. They grab and run.”
And these two were definitely terrorizing her. The shorter man yanked away her purse, and the big one stepped close, holding the tip of the knife just under her sternum. It was clear he was speaking to her, but from the distance and at the angle he was standing, it might not be possible to get a transcript of the conversation.
Maggie shook her head rapidly, replying to him, her body language clear — she was begging for her life, terrified. She lunged to the side in an attempt to run, but the bigger man yanked her arm, slammed her into the car. His arm thrust forward and he plunged the blade into her stomach. Withdrew, stabbed her again in the side, as she twisted in his grasp.
“Mother of God,” Ozzie whispered.
Maggie crumpled to the asphalt like a rag doll and writhed, dying, as the men walked off. Katrina closed the video. “That’s basically it.”
Michael didn’t need to see his wife’s struggle to phone for help, or watch her life drain away as she stopped moving. The woman was pronounced dead on the scene, the camera dutifully recording all of the sadness that came afterward with the paramedics, police, and eventually the coroner.
Without saying one single word, Michael rose and slowly walked out.
Bastian broke the silence first. “The big bastard was Tio, Dietz’s lapdog.”
“Dietz had Maggie killed,” Blaze said hoarsely, running a hand down his face. “My God. He cold-bloodedly arranged a woman’s death. Why? So he could take over SHADO while Michael was out mourning her?”
Bastian nodded. “I think you nailed it. Her murder was the first step of his big, insane plan to run his own little kingdom here. But he failed.”
“But who’s the other man in the video?” Ozzie wondered aloud. “Does he look familiar?”
“I wasn’t watching him as much as I was her and the other one,” Bastian admitted. The others agreed.
“I’ll play the beginning, just until he comes into the picture.” She ran the video again. When the man approached, she paused it. She didn’t recognize him, but then again she didn’t often come into contact with their targets. She just provided the surveillance equipment. “Any ideas?”
Blaze moved closer to the screen, frowning. “Go a little farther ahead. There’s a spot where he faces the camera more.” When she came to the place, he said, “There. This is the — Oh, shit!”
“What?”
“That’s the guy who gunned down Michael a few weeks ago! He’s the one I caught, who’s been in the cell down below, cooling his heels.”
“And if Michael recognized him just now?” Bastian asked.
They all shared a look filled with fear.
“Oh, fuck! Let’s go.”
Blaze took off running, followed by Ozzie and Willis. Katrina hung back with Bastian, frantic for Michael but not wanting to leave her other lover behind.
“Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“No, we’ll go together. The others will get there first and he’ll be fine.”
She hoped. The two of them made good time, Bastian moving fast despite the crutches. She worried he’d aggravate his injuries, but that thought flew out of her head when they approached the cell and she got a look at the horrifying scene in front of them.
The cell was open, the three agents standing in a half circle around Michael and the suspect. The man was kneeling at Michael’s feet, eyes crossed, staring at the muzzle of the hand canon pressed in the center of his forehead. He was babbling in terror.
“Please! I didn’t kill her! It was Tio!”
The feral snarl transformed Michael’s face into that of a man she’d never seen before.
“You’re just as guilty, you worthless piece of shit. You went along with Dietz and Tio. You watched her die.” He pressed the barrel harder into the man’s head. “How does it feel to know your life is about to end? Will it hurt to have your brains splattered all over this cell, do you think?”
“No! Please. I didn’t do it!” he shrieked. A dark, wet stain quickly spread across the front of his drab trousers.
Bastian maneuvered into the cell and the others moved to give him room to try to talk his friend down. “Michael, you don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, I think I do.” His chest heaved with emotions raging o
ut of control. The hatred in his eyes as he gazed at his prey was a truly frightening sight. “I blew off Tio’s head a few days ago. Did you know that, worm? He looked shocked as fuck when the back of his head sprayed all over that dirty alley.”
The man on his knees started to sob.
Balancing himself, Bastian slowly laid a hand on Michael’s gun arm. “You killed Tio in my defense, to save my life,” he said calmly. “Killing this scum, with him begging on his knees, drenched in his own piss, is not honorable. It would be murder, and you’re not like him. You’re not like Dietz or Tio.”
“He stood there and did nothing while she died.” His voice broke and the gun shook.
“Yes, and he has to face justice. But not this kind. You pull that trigger and you’ll become everything you hate. Your life will be over and it won’t be only yourself you’ve destroyed.” Bastian paused to let that sink in. “Put the gun down, Michael. Let the Feds take custody of this creep. Choose life. Choose us.”
Katrina held her breath, so scared for him. Bastian was right. If Michael did this, he’d destroy himself in the process.
One long minute passed. Michael’s arm lowered, the weapon pointing at the floor. All of the rage seemed to drain out of him, leaving him spent. Hollow. He turned and left the cell, pausing only when Katrina took his hand.
Their entourage continued on, leaving the weeping prisoner alone again. In the elevator, Katrina whispered in Bastian’s ear. “We need to take him home.”
“Good idea.”
Michael didn’t protest, didn’t speak a word as they led him straight from the building and climbed in the limo. Her eyes met Bastian’s and she knew they were on the same wavelength.
Their tough, strong man needed them both tonight. This crisis had been a long time coming.
And together they would love him through it.
Twelve
I nearly murdered a man in cold blood. I don’t deserve to lead SHADO. I don’t deserve two wonderful lovers who look at me like I’m their world.
He hadn’t deserved Maggie. And she was dead.
He’d known her death was horrible, agonizing. But to see it played out in front of his eyes, to know she’d been murdered because of him was more than he could take. Too much. His mind had snapped, and when he’d recognized the other man on the video, he’d wanted only to torment and kill. How Bastian had gotten through the crimson haze to him was a mystery. He still felt disconnected. A stranger in his skin.
During the ride home, his lovers let him be. While he appreciated the silence, he didn’t believe it would last. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but doubted they’d let him, especially after he’d completely lost it.
Or maybe they would pack and leave. He wouldn’t blame them if they did.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and upstairs,” Bastian said, his tone brooking no argument.
They were home already? Simon met them in the foyer, his wrinkled face a study of concern, but Bastian shook his head and the old butler retreated. In a daze, Michael allowed himself to be hustled to his room — their room, if they still wanted to stay with him — and pushed onto the bed. He moved to the middle and they sat beside him, each one touching him, saying nothing for a long while. Katrina stroked his hair and Bastian untucked his dress shirt, pushed a hand underneath to rub his stomach.
The touches were soothing, and after a while, he realized they weren’t going to lecture or barrage him with questions. They weren’t offering sympathy, pity, or false cheer — all of which he would have rejected in an instant. They simply offered comfort, and he drank it in big gulps, like a man dying of thirst, while they waited. So patient with him.
“It’s my fault,” he said at last, the words like razor blades in his throat.
Katrina’s voice was soft. “No. She was the victim of Dietz’s power play, and you had no control over what he did. You couldn’t have known his plans. He was good at putting on his mask of respectability when it suited him.”
“If anything, it’s my fault,” Bastian interjected. His eyes were shadowed. “If I had accepted your job offer in the first place, he wouldn’t have been in the position to—”
Michael cut that bullshit off. “If I can’t claim fault, neither can you. We both know the reason you turned down the position back then was because I broke your heart by marrying Maggie. You couldn’t stand the thought of working side by side with me after what I’d done, and I didn’t blame you. By the time I knew I’d screwed up, it was too late. Or I believed it was. I didn’t know what to do to fix things between us.”
“What are you saying?” his friend asked.
“I loved Maggie as a friend, but not like you should love your wife — like she’s your next heartbeat. Like you can’t breathe without her. She deserved to be loved like that, and I took that chance from her,” he said wretchedly. “I was selfish, and she paid for loving me. So did you.”
“Michael, if Dietz had never hatched his plan and Maggie was alive, do you think you would still be married to her?” Bastian watched him carefully, as though waiting for his friend to realize something.
And when it came to him, the answer was simple.
“No,” he said. It was like a curtain opening, showing the future behind door number three, had it ever been opened. After her death, he’d never paused to follow his relationship with her to its logical conclusion. “We couldn’t make each other happy. We wouldn’t have stayed together.”
Bastian leaned over him, palm skimming up to his chest to rest in the center. “You see? She would’ve been free to find her special person and be happy, and I have no doubt it would have happened. Dietz is the one who took away her future, not you.”
He considered that, and eventually gave in. “My brain knows that, but it’s hard to let go of the guilt. I’ve carried it so long, I’m not sure how.”
“By letting us love you,” Katrina said. “What happened isn’t your fault and you can’t change any of it. Let go and embrace what you have now.”
“And what you have now is pretty darned good.” Bastian gave him a small smile, full of hope.
Michael glanced between them, a strange feeling building in his chest, right underneath Bastian’s hand. The glow spread and seemed to envelop the three of them, vibrating with promise. And something more.
They were so beautiful, inside and out. He was a damned lucky man to be presented with a second chance, and he’d be a fool to let it pass by. “Touch me. Don’t let me go.”
Take me away from death, sadness, and pain. Make me feel worthy again.
“We’ve got you,” Bastian whispered.
And then he bent and lowered his lips to Michael’s, muffling his “mmmph” of surprise. He stiffened at first, then gradually gave way to the expert mouth claiming his. Bastian’s lips were soft but firm, his tongue probing gently, seeking entrance. Michael didn’t think twice, opening for him to allow the other man to taste and explore. He’d never dreamed it could feel so right, or that he could be aroused by kissing his best friend and be eager to do more. Much more.
But it was better than good, and he returned the kiss, their tongues dueling, Bastian enjoying his friend’s spicy taste. The musky smell of his cologne, manly and clean, teased Michael’s nose. His strong, hard muscles pressed Michael into the mattress. His cock responded, filled, wanting in on the action. He didn’t want the kiss to end and when it did, he and Bastian were panting, proof of the other man’s arousal rubbing against his thigh.
“My God, that was hot,” Katrina said.
Bastian chuckled and reached around to playfully slap her on the ass. “Skin, honey? Pretty please?”
“Michael first. I want to drive him crazy until he begs for mercy.”
“Mmm, let’s make him scream. Does he know what he’s gotten into, I wonder?”
“He’ll find out soon enough.”
Bastian started on the buttons of his shirt while Katrina pulled off his shoes and socks, then went to work
on his pants. Michael raised his hips to allow her to whisk down the pants and underwear, and then shrugged off the shirt. In all his naked glory, he’d never felt so exposed… and despite the number of lovers he’d had, never so excited.
The evidence jutted from between his thighs, flushed and hard. Irrefutable. No more hiding from the truth. His search for completion and the endless loneliness was done, but he had to hold it to himself a bit longer. Savor it like a decadent secret and let it sink in that this was real, not some product of his fevered dreams.
But even in his dreams he’d never conjured two mouths — one male, one female — nibbling his skin. Working together, they teased his nipples with teeth and tongues, shooting little bolts of joy to his nerve endings. After a few moments they moved south, nipped his ribs and belly. He squirmed, urging them to get to the prize, and Katrina laughed.
“Patience, big guy.”
Was she kidding? He needed more. Burying his hands in their hair, he grumbled and nudged them lower still, making his wishes clear. Playfully they complied, nipping his hip bones, the hollow of his groin.
And finally, two hot tongues twirled around his cock, starting at the leaking tip. They fought over the little droplet, but he wasn’t sure who was the winner, or that he cared. Hissing between his teeth, he stabbed the air with his cock, unable to help thrusting as they gave him a thorough tongue bath from head to root. Then Katrina swallowed his entire shaft, pretty lips working it, head bobbing. Bastian settled between his legs and mouthed his balls, sucking in one, then the other.
They were driving him insane and he loved every second, but he could hold out against the delicious assault for only so long. “I’m going to come too fast if you two don’t let up.”
Bastian raised his head. “I have an idea. Katrina, lie on your back so our man can eat that pretty pussy. I’m going to be occupied with something else.” He leered at Michael.
“Like what?” He wasn’t sure whether to be scared.
“You’ll see. Just go with it,” his friend encouraged.